#( unfeeling yet feeling. [ isms ] )

[stale-trash]

˚ʚꨄ︎ɞ˚ ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱ ᴜᴘ ˚ʚꨄ︎ɞ˚

ᴄᴡ: ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ/ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ʟᴏᴀᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀᴠ ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡᴇʟᴛ, ʜɪᴍᴇᴋᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴋᴀꜰᴋᴀ ɪɴꜰʟᴜᴇɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴛʏʟᴇ? (ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴀ/ɴ: ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴀɪɴ ᴄᴇʟʟ, @mini-ism

Welt Yang - teaches you!

This arrangement arose from the time you asked for fashion advice from the man. He was someone you went to regardless of topic for those easily digestible explanations, so why would this be any different? 

Welt meets your expectations and exceeds them as per usual. The outfits he creates with you best compliments your form - seamlessly incorporating your preferred style and elevating it. Slowly but surely, your wardrobe is impacted by his influence. With the clothes he bought alongside you and various accessories that he personally teaches you how to properly wear, it's hard to find an article not linked to him in some manner.

It's important for him to be subtle with his ulterior motives. Teaching you the basics of cohesive and practical dressing is important, but the opportunity to dress you up with little resistance is unbelievably tempting. For that to occur, Welt ensures to spread his influence at a snail's pace, always course-correcting based on your responses. Slow and steady does win the race for a reason.

Ambiguity is imperative to him. Maintaining the image of the resident wise mentor figure as he carefully guides you into making the first move is key to avoiding any…unnecessary actions. Observant ones would simply raise an eyebrow at it all, having no concrete proof of any questionable behavior on his part, and the more oblivious would see him as nothing more than a doting mentor. The perverted would recognize their kin, but to judge would be hypocritical. 

By the time he has you willingly modeling clothes that show more than they hide, you'd be firmly in his grasp. It'd be best for you to be ignorant of the depths of his emotions and simply accept the sanitized version. It's more romantic, you see; your long-time crush reciprocating your feelings is a more heart-warming story than one of a perverted man manipulating you. 

Ignorance is bliss, just leave the burden of knowing the unsavory truth to him.

Kafka - infects you!

The Stellaron Hunter is notoriously elusive in a variety of manners. She is as mysterious as she is dangerous, unpredictable as she is fearless, confident as she is hypnotic - to be caught in her web is inevitable.

It's hard to pin-point when exactly your unconscious conceded self-expression into her hands. Maybe it was gradual, your control over your clothes slowly crumbling as her web tightened around you. Maybe various coats encroach upon your wardrobe the longer she trespasses upon your life. Maybe you gravitate towards clothes she'd approve the more she looks over you out of fear, validation, or a sickening mix.

Or maybe, it happened overnight - either way, your wardrobe is now infested with coats. 

Some come in pairs, intended to be worn as a matching set, and others have clear owners. Some are still warm, and others emanate a soft scent. All make you sick, and none you can avoid.

To free yourself now is nothing more than a far-gone dream. Every movement entangles you further into her intoxicating embrace. 

She calls it beauty, you call it cruelty.

No matter what you did or said, nothing could possibly faze the woman. Even now, Kafka smiled softly, her plush lips glistening with the motion yet her eyes reflected that indescribable emotion. It’s too complicated and intense to simply be blank, yet too unfeeling and unnerving to be anything else. 

“Go on,” she cooed, her words wrapping around your form akin to the coat hanging off your shoulders, “give me a twirl~”

Kafka’s ‘request’ was punctuated with a little handwave, her silver rings catching the dim lights. It was clear all her focus was on you - her little model wearing nothing but a custom-tailored coat - as she sipped her wine lazily. 

So you twirled. You ignored how the cool night air caressed your clammy skin. You ignored how her scent permeated your skin and clogged your nose. You ignored how her coat brushed against your bare skin as if she was behind you, caressing your skin. You ignored the glimpses of your reflection and Kafka’s pleased expression. You ignored how she hummed in appreciation.

You ignored the burst of pride within you.

“Keep it,” she drawled as she swirled her wine like a sommelier, “you’re quite the sight.” 

You ignored the gentle waves of gratefulness that washed over your taut body. 

More coats now occupy your closet, and more emanate a familiar soft scent.

Himeko - dresses you!

Knowledgeable, confident, and elegant - these words might as well be synonyms for the navigator of the Astral Express. She inspires with her words and actions, a role-model for all.

It’s hard not to feel a bit underwhelming when you’re next to her. Like a shadow beneath the fire, it was simply nature - the laws of physics at work. Some were just meant to be more radiant than others and you’ve come to terms with it. Yet, you never considered the possibility that the light would shine above you, gently casting away your shadowy covers. 

Your closet was restructured carefully in her vision for you. It was hard to disagree with her when she was simply so radiant, washing away every one of your concerns with her warm touch. 

Whenever you got dressed for the day, you could feel her guidance surrounding you - her radiance casting away the dullness that perpetually surrounded you. Her approving smile and warm caresses only certified how right you were to trust her; she would never lead you astray.

But Himeko did. 

Her vision for you was a caged bird, a sight only she could enjoy. 

She’ll water you with compliments whenever you comply with her vision, and appreciate how you blossom under her care. She’ll prune any unwanted behavior with a little punishment, and cultivate you back onto her desired path.

Every outfit you now wear has a rose somewhere - whether it be an accessory or embedded within your clothes. The soft yet bitter aroma of coffee permeated your very being like a permanent fragrance. But for Himeko, this was far from enough.

What good was an invisible cage? A sign unreadable by most? A collar with no owner’s name?

It was cute when you didn’t understand her vision, yet imperative that others do. So she’d personally dress you in clothes that emulated the spirit of her own, occasionally giving you her own pieces to wear.

Your cute concerns would be washed away with a warm smile and an even warmer touch. Don’t you want to boost your confidence? What better way than to dress like her - to look like her?

One day, it’ll be her coat she helps you wear properly, even adjusting it throughout the day with a genial smile. Another day, it’ll be a matching golden rose choker she snaps onto your neck.

But her favorite look on you is a red toga dress with a white lining with the high slit on the right-side. Together, you’d match as perfect inverses of each other. Some days, she’d give you the accompanying black mini-skirt, gently forcing you to sit on her bed as she slipped it onto your legs. Yet, most of the time, your legs were exposed to Himeko’s delight. Her hands would rest against your thigh like another accessory, and caress your skin ever so gently until it was rubbed raw. There was no need to hide your beauty from her, she’d reason, it was just the two of you here.

Her vision was lost on you, but you were happy -  happy to finally shine as brightly as your beloved navigator. It didn’t matter - or perhaps register - that your only appreciator was Himeko.

[oddberryshortcake]

I honestly love Silver. 

I’ve been in his corner since the beginning, even when his character was shrouded in a lot of mystery (still is)

I’ve seen people say he’s boring. He’s not allowed to interact with MC yet, he doesn’t have too much going on either, and I will admit I think the princess boy trope is one of my favorites so of course I was endeared by his Aurora tendencies- but he’s probably the most empathetic and selfless character in NRC. 

Out of the light trio (who are all based on non-villains) Silver probably has the least villain tendencies. 

Rook always does the right thing, but his hunter-isms are a lot stronger and he uses his skills for schemes like in Beanfest.

Kalim has everyones best interest at heart and has a lot of compassion, but often fails to listen to other people’s feelings.

When Silver was completely distraught at losing his father, he notices that Malleus is upset too, and he immediately goes “Malleus must be hurting more than I am. He’s known my father longer than I have. I need to be there for him.” 

When teased by classmates for being ‘weird’ and ‘unfeeling,’ he thinks that he needs to fix himself so he doesn’t trouble his classmates. 

He feels like he owes his father his life simply just for caring for him, he feels like a terrible son because he isn’t able to ‘give back,’ all while he has been nothing but a compassionate caring son this whole time. 

He was the one to want to speak with the fairies in What If Fairy Gala instead of tricking them, he wanted to find peace between humans and fairies. 

I honestly can’t help but wonder why he’s in this school. Maybe there’s something darker behind there, maybe some strings were pulled, but I’m still amazed at how genuinely sweet Silver is. But that makes me worry for what’s in store for him in the future. 

Because if his tendencies of putting other people’s needs ahead of his are still at play, then who is going to protect him if he needs it?

[a-is-love]

AH

Perhaps this will be just another letter, a dream within a dream, a stream among streams of consciousness that flow through our sacred Mother Earth. On the other hand, sometimes, there are holes in the universe, holes that open up possibilities that at once seem possible and impossible, those one in a million chances… perhaps, once in a lifetime. And they seem to stay open but for a little while awaiting an adventurer, in which case, there is delight. Otherwise, it sews itself up, and a timeline is sealed. 

Interestingly, from inside, there always seems to be a voice that is whispering something ever so softly, that sometimes one wonders whether it is a song from the heart, or if it is the mistaken sound of wishful thinking. Not only that, one knows that although the message might be compassionate, it still is threatening to the current state of affairs. So there is both the incentive to listen and to ignore it at once. Yes, things can become quite uncertain and rather bewildering. 

I haven’t written like this in a little while, but I feel the sirens may have been visiting me a little more as of late. I suppose they have something they want to express.

I think the last time I heard such a voice, I was walking up a mountain at a retreat center. You know what happens at a long retreat, at a certain point you try to convince yourself that you’re at peace and happy, and that things are going to be alright. But deep inside me at the time, a tenderness kept trying to reveal itself… showing some truth about myself that I wasn’t prepared to admit. Nothing was soothing me, and my uneasiness kept gnawing at me. When I listened, the voice asked me to stop… to let go of what I was doing. It said it ever so softly, but quite intently too.

I’m reminded of this scene from a McQueen show titled Voss. He had a tattoo on his right upper arm that read, “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,” which is taken from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. With his sense of humor, he had all the models walking out into an insane asylum, in a room full of mirrors (they couldn’t see out, but the curious audience of course, could watch the horror show). At the end, there was a rectangular box in the middle of the scene that shattered to reveal a naked, overweight woman in a gas mask hooked up to tubes and surrounded by hundreds of moths. That’s when I imagined a few people gasped! I think the message may have something to do with the quote on his arm. In any case, for me, it seemed to point to an ugliness inside that I hadn’t learned to love, that I was still afraid of. It took a while for me to heed the message… 

Finally, a few years passed before I took the leap. I decided to break from life as I had known it, and head into a one year gap sabbatical. In hindsight it wasn’t a big deal, but it definitely felt disconcerting at the time. It turned out to be a strange year. I was trying to put my finger on something… find something, although I didn’t know what. At that point, I had been inside the machine for a little while, enough that I felt its mechanics quite acutely. Unfortunately, we are born into something that may have been corrupted for quite some time now, and it’s not really anyone’s fault. However honorable our intentions, however noble our heart, it always seemed like inevitably, our actions would slowly be warped to continue to construct this greedy and unfeeling world. At least personally, I couldn’t think clearly anymore. 

With that longing, I decided to revisit my past to try and see if it held any clues. When I was younger, I had the privilege of being a violinist in an orchestra, and it was love. One of the highlights was one year at the Conservatoire, we performed Also Sprach Zarathustra, and our concert-mistress just played the solo to perfection. It was so moving. Another time, in a festival of young musicians, we interpreted Ravel’s Bolero to a grand French audience. I still remember the cheers at the end. I think I inherited this classical sensibility from mother. I have fond memories of her accompanying me to most of my lessons. Or when I was young, she was stay-at-home, and we spent a lot of our time doing arts and crafts together.

During that gap year, I tried to rekindle something with my older brother, the one who is both blessed and cursed with a slight case of art-ism (or is it spelled aut-?). He’s the black sheep of the family, the one who guards the house with our black-and-white cat Daria. We used to love to make music together, but by then, his health didn’t permit it anymore. Fortunately, it never diminished his sense of artistic taste, which has always been a cut above everyone. (In his younger days, he may have seen the eyes of Mona Lisa herself in a long trip, and she apparently initiated him into the sublime). On the surface, he seems to be doing nothing most of the time, which perplexes most people I know. From the inside, I am privy to witness a spectacle of endless colors, shapes, and sounds. I think from him, I inherited something of the other-worldly (although sometimes, even I have a hard time connecting to him when he travels too far out into the conspiratorial.)

The other members of the family are more earthy and pragmatic. My father is the engineer who fixes the water heater when it breaks mid-winter, or like clockwork, reminds us to change the air filter when it’s time. He may have been the one to steer me away from art into medicine, much to my chagrin. I harbored anger about it for quite a while. I think during that year, I finally had the chance to hear stories of the harrowing escape from their country from my aunts. Apparently, father shouldered a lot of that responsibility to make sure they arrived here safely. Knowing these stories helped me to understand and forgive him. I think since he feels my brother can't do it, he sees me as the one carrying forth that ancestral responsibility, some sense of honor from a lost country.

My sister is also a more worldly being than I. Being the youngest one, she has had to fight a little bit more than the rest of us for her fair share. But that feistiness proved itself to be useful that year, when she received news that she had ovarian failure. She would never have children of her own. It really broke her heart, and she was trying everything under the sun to change her fate. I didn’t realize its meaning at the time, but in a trip to New Jersey to visit my cousin, there was a scene I’ll always remember. After a slight rain shower had subsided, she and I walked outside to the most remarkable double rainbow, and the whole sky behind was coloured with violets and reds. My cousin had gone through a miscarriage herself, and understood the pain. So last year, she was the one who volunteered her ovums to my sister. And most unexpectedly, my sister received the news of twins on the first IVF try, and she and her husband finally became parents. So, her will forward against all odds was really amazing.

Me … I continued to be lost that year, even while I was back at our Profound Treasury Retreat in the summer. Some of us retreatants spoke about trying to organize a dathün, and I was enthused, because being on sabbatical might give me the only opportunity I would have in a while. But ideas are so fragile, that sometimes if they reach the wrong ears, the flower wilts before it has a chance to bloom. That was the fate of this idea, or so it seemed. The retreat ended... and it was good, but it was time to go home. (Usually I had B to drive home with me, but that year he was undergoing chemotherapy for prostate cancer, so he hadn't come along. I had met him a few years back at a local Buddhist fundraiser, when my eyes first grazed upon his beautiful photograph entitled Flower Moon, since framed in my shrine room. My brother chose one entitled Flower Demon… Geminis of the same coin, I suppose). 

J and his daughter K had forgotten their unfinished laundry at our campsite before they had headed off to a second retreat. Since it was on my way home, I volunteered to deliver the clothes to them. I didn’t think much of it… I would come in and drop it off and be on my way.  Fate would have it that when I began to head back to my car, at the last possible moment, a voice called ‘’Daniel…! Daniel….!’’ J was out smoking again and he had spotted me. Would I stay behind to practice some more? Well… I told him I had the time. I think at that moment, a small hole in the universe opened, and I remembered the words of a Tibetan Buddhist master:

“If you can visualize it, it will be there in the morning.’’ 

Magically, here was the month-long sit that I had hoped for, suddenly materializing. So I fell upon a choiceless choice, and I was granted the permission to stay and join the group.

It was a really wonderful time. At the retreat center a few years back, the voice from these same mountains had requested me to have the courage to take a pause. So here I was, full circle, and it felt like a gift having more precious time to spend practicing. Of course, it wouldn’t be a proper retreat without major controversy, and the “Current Situation” shook what was supposed to be a peaceful space. (It has reverberated ever since, actually). 

But along the way, we had ice cream on the fourth of July for C’s birthday, and walks and wine at night (yes, we cheated). I think that’s where I met “Ah” for the first time. Her name translates to something like serene childlike beauty, or at least, that’s my take on it. There was such sensibility to her manners, maybe something unresolved as well. At the midway point, we had a long free day with mostly just the four of us together (J, K, Ah and I). Nothing happened, and yet it was the sort of series of nothing happening that was just a perfect coda for me. I think maybe the dralas dictated a poem to remember the day:

Dragon Day Bowing out Public vomit recovery Bambi living Je me souviens de rien de rien (one of Tilopa's 6 nails) Soothing headache ibuprofens Mommy navajo siren Only twin child Dulce elderberry spirit Basketball shots Straight talking Translucent Shakespearean theatre Wounded Earth Protector Great eastern sunburn Holocaust cemetery Flower moonshine Holy bread with dab of butter I'm really sorry—nothing happens Talking to Acharya through a window Talking to Acharya with Ka commanding magic The land before time The call of loons Four kayas Fortnights Tears in the fourth moment Sadjoy

I left midway through, although looking back, I do have regrets about it. A month later, while playing tennis, my right Achilles snapped. The moment I fell to the ground, it was like: “Damn, Daniel! Now the universe will have you sitting for two more months!’’ I would have preferred it at the retreat probably. Anyhow, I must have watched three movies a day that September, it was really indulgent, but I couldn’t do much of anything. But I did feel very grateful to all the kind doctors, nurses, friends and family who each had a hand in my recovery. I think somewhere in the healing, I started to realize a most basic thing about my profession that I had forgotten amidst the hustle and bustle of long days, feelings of inadequacy, and the endless accounting and paperwork. Beyond all that, I realized that maybe I could be helpful. “I can help.” It was a simple, almost naive mantra (if not to the point of being a simpleton), but I found it to be true somehow.

It was like I had recovered a compass, to which I could attune myself in times of need. As the sabbatical quickly wound down, my previous life awaited me. Nothing changed when I came back to work, at least not on the surface. But something changed as well… I felt with the mantra, I was perhaps able to slowly effect some change, however small. Ever so slowly, I’ve been feeling the sun in my heart again, and I think it feels genuine. It’s been slow-burning and giving. Last year, when everything stopped and the world turned upside down, I couldn’t help but think back… that somehow, I had stopped at the right moment, and had a small time to look inside. Now, it was my turn to give back to the ailing world. Increasingly, I think we all worry that our world is taking the turn for the worse, and it seems to really need us, more than we might know.  

Sometimes, along the way, we meet people that inspire, that move us, and even in a short time, change us. Late last year, old warrior teachers of mine gathered online to present to us their wisdom on the notion of an enlightened society. It was the surprise of the year that Ah could come, even for just the first half of it. (I suppose there was some poetic karma there, after I had left in the middle of dathün back then.) In those moments together, I felt we could begin to plant the seeds of a just and good world. And in our society, it’s okay if one needs time away in the middle of a forest to heal. It might take moments and moments, and then suddenly, a new possibility dawns—one that has been there all along. Maybe, that’s how we cultivate warriors with soft hearts.

In the middle of that winter, these lines came to me:

                           Meet me in the ninth                         Where the sun reaches its peak                          To swallow flames whole

Maybe it’s for these dark times we live in, that sometimes feel impossible, but we know that the only way is through. On the other hand, perhaps we have simply forgotten, but our birthright is goodness, and it infuses everything that we do already.

So although we live a world apart, it’s still nice to know that magic can happen in July, and that just maybe, we are but a call or message away. And sometimes, there are holes in the universe, holes that open up possibilities that at once seem possible and impossible, to those that are one in a million, perhaps, once in a lifetime… and you know, my heart grows a little fonder. Or, it could be that I’m a bit myopic and that I can’t read the situation from this far a distance. If it’s that, then my humble apologies. 

I’m reminded that I once took a drawing class, and there was a couple serving as models in the middle of the room. The teacher was helping us visualize, asking that our eyes follow the curves of the body to where we couldn’t see them, helping us feel the space from presence to darkness. Then, we were asked to try and glimpse into the soul of the models, how it might reflect in their gaze, or a wrinkle, or in an unkempt strand of hair. I think I’m coming to understand this inner world a little bit more everyday: the mirrors, the moths, and the lady with the mask. And I would say, “I think I like you, and I would love to get to know you more.’’ 

At the very least, I hope it brings a smile.

                                        *              *               *

I feel the sirens might be done their songs for the day.  Thank you for your ears.  They really are most kind.

[suadcampbell]

AMERICANISM

AMERICANISM

ISM:

Def: attachment or allegiance to the traditions, institutions, and ideals of the United States.

I love my country. I love its big heart, its unending effort to be fair and good, to be tolerant and encouraging, to be entrepreneurial, inventive, and just.

I hate that it’s attacked so often from within, from people who disdain its roots, its founders, its history, its progress, its genius. I resent their efforts to make me despise our origins and successes. To feel guilty about them. No country has an unblemished history, a perfect record on human rights, a perfect redistribution of wealth. From the beginning of time, there have been conquerors and the conquered. Just look at the world today. Slavery is still practiced today (Estimates range from 21 million to 30 million) in Africa, and Asia. Women’s rights are trampled on daily across the globe. Torture chambers exist and people spend their lives in hard-labor camps. Gays are thrown from rooftops, or stoned, or imprisoned. In this country, you’d think the same horrors are occurring; that we’re as morally corrupt; that we’re abusive and unfeeling, that we’re xenophobic, homophobic, misogynistic. We’re still talking about slavery that ended over 150 years ago--but very little is discussed about the slavery happening right now in other countries.

If it weren’t for the brilliance and perspicacity of our founding fathers, our Constitution wouldn’t exist, and we wouldn’t have grown and prospered and been such a force for good in the world. If we dismantle the Constitution, or fundamentally alter it, we will become less free, and subject to the ruling classes exclusively. There will be the very rich and the very poor and no middle class.

We live in a country where roughly fifty percent of the population don’t pay federal taxes. And those who don’t pay taxes are allowed to vote to increase them. Entitlement programs abound. People can afford to eat, and eat well, to own tech stuff, and to send their kids to decent schools. Yet there are factions in this country that squawk and groan that we’re not doing enough, that we should do more. We help people feed their babies, get transportation, childcare, housing, health insurance, and find jobs.

The dissidents in our country want to try the same failed social experiments that have been tried many times throughout the world with terrible results. Millions have died through war and privation. Their souls have been battered, their will squelched, their humanity stomped on. Think of North Korea. Cuba. Iran. China. Russia. South America.

Do the dissidents in our country really believe utopia exists? Or are they genetically programmed to complain and fight and generally be unhappy? I think they’d agitate and pick fights and complain in Shangri La, were they to live there.

Does America get some things wrong? Does it have issues it needs to address and resolve? Of course it does. Should people clamor for change and have their voices heard? Of course, they should. But leave the heated anti-American rhetoric out. Stop guilting Americans into believing they’re lousy human beings and should be ashamed of their country.

I love America. I love our flag. Our exuberance. Our can do attitude. Our stuff. Our freedom. And I am so grateful and happy to live here. What colossal good luck!

Let freedom ring!